


Do I Like You? Or is it the Burden of My Biology?

by DropshipAlpha



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - High School, Dunno if ill do more with this later, M/M, Teenlock, or at least, superhero au, superpower au
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-09
Updated: 2016-02-09
Packaged: 2018-05-19 07:12:30
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5958382
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DropshipAlpha/pseuds/DropshipAlpha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Sherlock sees John around his high school and knows he has a dirty little secret.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Do I Like You? Or is it the Burden of My Biology?

Eureka.  
A sudden moment of realization. Sherlock had a lot of those. Usually during a particularly difficult mystery, finally noticing the one clue he'd been overlooking the entire time, pieces of the puzzle slotting themselves together in Sherlock's mind. Sherlock often chased the feeling. With his mind at its peak functionality, who wouldn't become addicted?

It was the exact sensation he felt as he studied the figure of the boy standing before him. John Watson, one year ahead of him, rugby player, quite popular and accepted in the school's social circle with a strong sense of moral obligation.

Knowing the boy wouldn't steal it from him, Sherlock had passed him his phone for him to hold onto for a short minute while he climbed up into a tree in order to retrieve a couple acorns from the top branches. The ones on the ground were obviously unfit for experimental use and John's protests fell on Sherlock's deaf ears as he scaled the strong branches. It wasn't Sherlock's fault the uniforms had such shallow pockets and John had been the only decent person in arm's reach. There was no way Sherlock would have set it in the mud and climbing with it in his hands or teeth was asking for disaster. And if John decided he wanted to know more about the elusive social outcast Sherlock Holmes he'd be disappointed to find out Sherlock's phone was dead anyway. 

But that was the precise bit of information that led Sherlock to his realization. Ever since he'd first set eyes on the rugby player he could tell John was hiding something. There was something that had brought the boy to Eton. Something him and his alcoholic sister and suicidal father were running away from. 

The detail that broke the dam of information and brought it all pouring forth was something so miniscule Sherlock may have even missed it if he hadn't taken a moment to glance at John's hands. But it was in that small diversion of his attention from his acorns to the calluses on the other boy's hands that he noticed a small LED light was currently shining against the sleek black frame of the smartphone. Specifically, it was the light that indicated the phone was charging, even though they were in the middle of a field and not anywhere near any sort of power source. And when John thrust the phone into Sherlock's open palm the light went out and the phone was starved of electrical charge once more. Interesting.

And then the floodgates had opened.

-

Two years earlier Sherlock had overheard rumors of an attack in a school not too far from London. Reportedly, several students had been hospitalized with third degree burns, all suffering nervous system damage from the high voltage electric shocks they all received. The explanation of a stray live wire made sense to most, what with the school being in such a run down state. But not to Sherlock He'd been forced to suffer through two weeks of, "Those poor children," and "Their entire lives wasted," as the people pretended to care about lives lost they'd never been apart of before the world promptly forgot all about them and resumed its mindless chatter.

Though Sherlock made sure not to forget. It didn't make any sense. A school with primary school kids knew better than to leave live wires hanging loose. And upon further inspection there was no where for any live wires to protrude from and snake their way over to a group of children who hadn't even been standing close enough together for them all to receive such high amounts of voltage. 

But there was no other logical explanation and when his mind failed him Sherlock buried the case away under the folds of his mind and refused to think about it anymore.

It had been the first case he'd failed to solve in his eleven years of life and it became the beginning to the vault of mystery in his brain. The only place within his mind he avoided.

-  
Just to be sure, Sherlock pressed and held the small rectangular power button at the top and watched as the phone screen lit up, giving a tinny chime.

He immediately opened a text message to Mycroft, telling his brother that he wouldn't be home for a while. It was normally uncharacteristic of him but he needed any excuse to keep John from walking away from him and blatantly ignoring John's questions would do just the trick. 

"How old are you, John?"

The question seemed to startle the boy, perhaps due to how completely off topic and random it was, interrupting John's current string of questions and scolding retorts.

"What does that have to do with anything?"

Everything, Sherlock wanted to say but instead he just repeated his question, not getting annoyed with the tedious nature the conversation had already taken in some unsolicited bout of patience.

"Answer the question, how old are you?"

John weighed his options for a moment, trying to work out exactly why Sherlock would be asking him such a question. A moment of hesitation too long for anyone who didn't believe their next words would be giving away something possibly fatal. But John was intrigued by Sherlock and he'd answer the question. Sherlock knew he would. And even though he already knew John's approximate age he had to be sure, had to be absolutely positively sure.

"Seventeen."

Of course he was. 

"Well, John Watson, that puts you in the year above me. An entire grade level above me in Eton. As you know this school isn't exactly standard. It's quite prestigious even if half the instructors are complete idiots. Not just anyone can join its ranks yet you've managed despite your obvious financial turmoil. You got here on a scholarship, which isn't surprising as you're quite a hard worker with an inclination to become a doctor and the drive to actually meet your goals. Yet you seemingly can only manage a two-point-zero grade point average, far below way you're capable of if you've managed to worm your way into Eton. Perhaps it could be attributed to familial troubles due to your sister's budding alcoholism at the ripe young age of fourteen, or your father's suicidal tendencies because your mother died when you were young and he hasn't quite gotten over it yet. But that isn't it. He hasn't gotten over her death but from the looks of it neither have you if your nightmares are any indication. But nightmares from a regular death by illness or a car crash are unlikely, so this was a rather traumatic event, an event you blame yourself for."

Sherlock finished his monologue in one rush of breath. He didn't even look up from his phone. Punches were easier to evade if the attacker thought you weren't expecting them. But a few tense moments passed and a blow never came, which caused Sherlock to finally rip his eyes from his phone and meet John's.

He hadn't really ever thought a person could resemble a fish but he was definitely seeing the resemblance so many popular authors alliterated to. John seemed unable to decide whether to be angry or not while he processed everything Sherlock told him, which had the effect of opening every program on a computer at once. Mouth slightly agape and eyes wide John couldn't tear his eyes from Sherlock's face. While John buffered, Sherlock distributed his acorns in each of his pockets.

"How did you..? Who told you about me?"

A mix of emotions danced across John's face. Confusion in the knitting of his eyebrows, apprehension in the tension in his shoulders, fear in the way his throat bobbed as he swallowed. But surprisingly no anger or defensiveness. Interesting. 

But Sherlock had a goal in mind, and this rare moment of what could only be dubbed as shock would not deter him.

"No one did. I simply see and observe. Perhaps you'd be able to do the same if you actually applied yourself. I also know that you were the one that killed your mother and you almost did the same to a group of primary school students when you were rather young because for whatever reason your body is able to conduct and produce high amounts of electricity."

All previous emotion drained from John's face along with all the color that tinted his cheeks not a few seconds ago. The boy's shoulders stiffened as his spine tried to adpot the stiffness of a metal pole and his eyes widened even further. Time froze around them as Sherlock attempted to gauge John's next move. The other boy's feet seemed to take control where his mind drew a blank and soon he was taking off across the field, Sherlock in hot pursuit for the most thrilling chase he'd ever take part in.

**Author's Note:**

> Hey! I'm trash I know. I meant to update my other ongoing fic but I came up with this at a bowling alley and couldn't resist. It was a nice distraction.
> 
> But anyway, yes! Please tell me if there's anything I can improve on!


End file.
